Fight of Your Life
by Destany Mitchell
Summary: A/U Season 3. No spoilers for Lia  see A/N . Spoilers for Season 2 Finale & Annie Broadcasts. Mitchell follows Annie into hell to rescue her from an unjust fate. But Death doesn't like to be second guessed. Can they survive the consequences?
1. Chapter 1

**Spoiler Alert: **Definitely spoilers for those who haven't seen season 2 finale or the "Annie Broadcasts". A/U Season 3. No spoilers for season 3, all original ideas I had before Lia aired in the UK, just haven't had the chance to write (see A/N). General spoilers for the series as a whole.

**Summary**: Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Mitchell follows Annie into hell, determined to save her from an unjust fate. But Death doesn't like to be second guessed. Will the housemates be able to survive the consequences?

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I don't claim ownership of the characters, the show, or anything else, or else Season 3 would have run like this fic and not how it's going right now (or so I've seen through various set pics and watching episode 1). I did borrow the characters but I don't claim any legal right. We all know who really owns this show, so please don't sue. I don't mean any harm and am not profiting in any way from writing this (ok, maybe a bit because I'm a review whore, but who can blame me on that one?).

**A/N: **Alright, for those who haven't seen season three, or have and are thinking 'you ripped this off the episode' I can tell you now I have had this in my head since I saw the finale of season 2 and heard season 3 was going to deal with rescuing Annie from hell. After all, if you go into hell, don't you think there's going to be consequences to the actions? Big, bad ones? And this thought had been spinning around in my head, begging to be made into a story but I didn't have a plot until about a week before Lia (3x01) aired in the UK, I had this dream that pretty much starts off this fic and a few selected scenes later that inspired it. I have seen the first episode to season three and that is it, as I'm waiting for it on BBCAmerica but really wanted episode one to see if I could pull anything to help develop my idea, but really, it had everything I thought of and went in a completely different direction that I wanted it to (though I love the ending). So, this fanfic was officially born and I only got the chance to start writing this week. **So, for those of you concerned about spoilers, I promise, there's nothing here that's going to spoil episode one of season three.** Without further ado…enjoy!

Please note, there is an intentional POV change. Please don't review yelling at me about changing halfway through. There was a reason for it. I think you'll get it once you read through. The remainder should be in first person.

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**Fight of Your Life**

**Chapter 1**

"Mitchell, you don't have to do this. Not this way." George's high pitched voice pierced the air and caused the man inside the predator to hesitate in his actions.

The predator inside him ignored the _thing_ that talked to him. It was only focused on the task before him. About the pulse of the carotid artery in his victims throat, of the elixir of life running through his veins, the intoxicating smell overcoming the filth and stench and appealing to the darker side of his nature. Oh yes, the predator thought this was it.

This was necessary.

Just one quick bite and both the man and the predator got what they wanted. Even the victim would be going to a better place. Death would have to be better than living like a poor bum on the streets.

"Mitchell! Please!"

The predator glared at the interruption. He cocked his head and regarded the one who was interrupting his moment. He could take him. Remove the interruption of the mutt before him. He could have both. He could take them both out. He'd double the chances to get the door; double the deep hunger of the predator within.

"Mitchell, there are other ways!"

"Go away, George!" The man yelled, momentarily overtaking the predator and recognizing his friend and not the insignificant annoying mutt before him. The predator knew he could take him. The man knew he couldn't let it.

"Don't you dare do this, Mitchell!" George continued, stepping further into the alley. "Don't you dare kill this man in her name!"

"Or what George?" The man snapped, struggling against the predators need to attack. The predator did not like being interrupted. It wanted to rip the mutt's throat out, bath in its blood and drink that of the homeless man currently in his grip. Oh the man knew it was wrong, but he also reveled in the free feeling the predator did, knowing that, at least for a moment, the deep hunger would ease and slip away. "What are you going to do?"

"You know Annie wouldn't want you to do this," George stated, his eyes pleading with his best friend, the man that was currently allowing his dark side, his literal demon, take control.

"Annie's in hell, George!" He snapped, feeling his human feelings beginning to resurface at the pain of discussing his love's fate. The predator fought to remain in control, but the man and his feelings were stronger than the predator's want for blood, death, and mayhem. "I don't think she'll protest one stupid homeless man kicking the bucket to save her!"

"She wouldn't want you to kill him," George stated, his words cutting into his best friend, causing the man to fully emerge from the predator's hold.

My thoughts had been of the blood, the high of the kill and the powerful feeling of knowing that life was in my hands. That the predator inside of me could have whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted and there was no stopping him; Nothing but my own humanity when I was strong enough to fight those urges - that powerful need to kill. The high that followed was like no other drug on the planet, but ended almost as quickly as it began. I had a brief moment of horror as I looked at the man in my arms and felt my hands loose their tight grip from the man's throat and torso, his warm body feeling suddenly repulsive instead of seductive against my slightly cooler one.

George let out a breath of relief as I dropped the unconscious homeless man and stared down at him in horror at the thought of Annie and her face if I were to kill this man.

My mind automatically flashed back to the moment when I'd been so high on blood and death, the appalling things the predator had said to her, and her horrified look. The way she called me "something" when she told George to go look at what I'd become.

No.

Annie wouldn't want me to be a killer. But I couldn't think of another way to do this either.

Someone had to die.

That was the only way to get a door to appear to the other side. Without the door, there was no hope of crossing over.

"I can't do this anymore, George." I whispered, staring at the man at my feet, knowing there was no one out there that would miss this person. I had tracked him for over a week and had him looked up in a police database I had an old friend who owed me a favor check. He was a nobody with no one to care about him. Death would truly be a blessing for this man. And I could do it. Oh there was no doubt about it. I could get through the door, cross through "administration" and search for my Annie.

"Mitchell, people die all the time-"

"It's been six months George!" I snapped, removing my gaze from the maybe-victim (verdict was still out if I'd let the predator kill him or not) and glaring at my…best friend. "It's been two months, three weeks, a day, eight hours and forty-eight minutes since we got the broadcast from her losing her mind. It's been three days since she told us they were" I couldn't finish the thought. I could only picture my Annie on the fuzzy broadcasts, hearing her as she tried to remember who she was, listening to her panic and cries when she found out what they were doing to her and not being able to do anything.

No. It had been long enough.

"I know, Mitchell." George stated, tears in his eyes as he stepped forward, closer to his only true friend he ever had.

"I can't," I shook my head. "I _need_ to do something. She'd do the same for us."

"She wouldn't kill anyone."

"She might," I said, a small smile coming to my face and George did the same. We both knew Annie was protective of us. She wasn't a killer though. She wouldn't go that far.

"Don't do this, Mitchell. Let Nina and I help you."

"You can't, George." I said with a sigh. "We've been over this."

"No, Mitchell, we offer to help and you snap and go sulk for three days. We're not just"

"You're _not dead_, George!" I yelled. "You physically, cannot, cross over! Even if you wanted to!"

"Neither are you, Mitchell!" George yelled back and I laughed a bitter laugh at how naïve my best friend was. I let myself forget that he doesn't see me like the rest of my kind. He sees me as Mitchell, as the guy who thought it might be fun to get a house with a werewolf. He didn't think of me as the soldier who died nearly 100 years earlier to be the man I was now.

"Technically, no." I stated. "But how do you think I got this way, George?" George looked like he wanted to argue but I cut him off. He _had_ to understand. If he crossed over, there was no telling what would happen to him. The living cannot see the doors. They can't know what lies waiting on the other side. It would drive them mad thinking about it.

"I was there, George." I whispered. "The night I died, before I became…" I paused and gestured at myself before continuing. "I was dead. I went through the door and…" I shuddered at the memory of happened between the moments of my death and my … rebirth. I still had nightmares about it. "It doesn't matter. Point is, you _can't_. I have to go alone."

"How do you know you can?"

"I…it's been done before." I stated.

"So, what, there's a book titled 'How to Get Into Hell'?"

"It's…a bit more like a rumor," George looked like he was about to blow and I winced at the thought of his voice rising several octaves like it did when he was stressed and upset. "BUT! The theory is sound. Only someone dead, or undead, can cross over and come back."

"Mitchell, this is starting to sound even crazier than"

"George, you have to trust me."

"I do."

"Good."

There was a beat of silence and I looked away from my best friend. He couldn't know how unsure about this I was. Sure this was the only way to get Annie back and I am willing to do whatever it takes. I don't know how long it'll take. It's not like there is a book or a map for hell. I don't know what will happen once I get through that door. I don't belong there and the Gatekeepers do not take kindly unwanted visitors. Or, I guess, I would assume they wouldn't. But I couldn't dwell on that now. I needed someone to die, callous as it sounds.

"Don't kill someone." George stated and I looked back up at my friend. I opened my mouth to argue but George cut me off before I could protest. "Nina's back to work at that hospital tomorrow," He paused. "There has to be an ICU wing or nursing home we can start watching."

"George"

"No Mitchell. I won't let you be a killer again." George stated firmly and I had to look away from him, wincing at the implications of his words.

I know George hasn't gotten over what happened to me before Annie disappeared. He hasn't asked what happened, but I he has a good idea and I'm sure his imagination could picture all kinds of horrible things that may fall close to the truth.

"We can't wait much longer, George." I told him, looking him in the eyes, knowing somewhere inside me what I was going to say was the complete truth. I don't know how I know it, but it's there, in my soul. Maybe it's from my brief time there, but something tells me that's not it. It's just instinct. Maybe it's from the predator or maybe it's one of those lessons ingrained from the beginning of time. But everything inside of me was screaming the clock was running – and not in our favor. "Time moves differently there. If we wait too much longer than who knows what kind of state Annie will be in."

"OK," George agreed, looking reluctant. "Let's go home."

He turned around and started to head back down the alley. I started to follow, but the predator made me pause. I turned to look back at my would-be victim.

"Mitchell," George snapped.

I turned my gaze away from the homeless man and followed my friend back to our new "home". George called it home, but it would never be home to me.

Not without Annie.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **OMG, I am so sorry this is so late! It started off as a difficult chapter because, if you read the previous notes about this fic, this came to me in a series of dreams and inspiration through a song and I have the major events but none of the connections to each of them, so this whole chapter I needed to figure out what I wanted to do and how to pace it. So I spent some time plotting out what this chapter was going to contain, then found out the 10 page research paper I thought was due a month later was actually due in a week and then it was my final, and all the while I've been working like a nutter because I'm an accountant and it's tax season in the States, so…yeah. And then, needless to say, all the plotting I did resulted in a crappy chapter that I had to scrap and I finally said "the hell with it" and just started writing and I'm proud of what I came up with. Anyway, I'm so sorry this was late, but my final exam is over (for the semester) and tax season has only another month left (YAY!) and I'm making a promise to update this more frequently (maybe?). I'm aiming for at least once every week or two. We shall see how that goes. Don't give up on me. This fic will not fall by the way-side. I'm too proud of the ideas behind it to just let it slip away into nothing. Anyway, I'll stop rambling and let you get to reading (if you didn't already just ignore me and go to the fic). Sorry again for the delay. Enjoy the chapter!

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**FIGHT OF YOUR LIFE  
Chapter Two**

"Where have you been?" Nina demanded as soon as we stepped into the door. I sighed and pushed past the woman and down the hall to my room. I liked Nina, but in the end, she didn't care where I was and what I was doing or not doing. She only cared about George. She might get pissed about the brush off, she may come storming after me to tell me what an inconsiderate asshole I've been, but right now, I didn't care. I couldn't just sit back and listen to her bitch. I may have controlled myself enough to not eat the homeless man, but the urge was still there. It was just below the surface and I needed to be alone to get it fully under control.

I shut the door to my room, knowing it wouldn't really do any good. With Nina yelling, I wouldn't need supernatural hearing to listen to every word. However, it was a much-needed barrier to keep me from ripping her throat out. Not even the smell of the wolf would keep it away. I had let the monster loose and he wanted to kill. It didn't care about my conscious or what I needed. It was hungry. It was always hungry. And there was one thing that could satisfy that.

I groaned and flopped down on my bed, trying to get a grip on my thoughts. I was John Mitchell. I didn't need blood. I just had to convince myself that. Again.

"…I mean, how long does it take to pick up milk, George, honestly?" Nina continued on. "And look? Surprise, Surprise, You even forgot that!"

"Nina, I'm sorry. I ran into Mitchell and"

"I can see that, George. What'd you do, go down to the pub?"

"Look, Nina, he's…" George hesitated and I knew it was because he was trying to figure out how much to tell Nina. She was tough, Nina was. But some things are not forgivable in her book. I winced. I felt bad for George, I really did, but I am desperate to get Annie back. Killing that man seemed (still seems) like a good way to go about it. "struggling."

"George-"

"It's ok, Nina. I, we just, we need to do something." George told her, and I could imagine the two of them holding hands and leaning into each other and I felt a pang at that. While Annie and I had never been anything more than friends, I still missed her presence. She was the light in the darkness. I'd call her an Angel if I thought there was such a thing. Maybe there is. Maybe, if there are demons and hell, there truly are such things as Angels out there and Annie was one. I'd been around people I cared about and seen more of them die than I'd care to think about. Annie was the only one that it felt like a part of my soul was being ripped out.

"George, are we, is Mitchell safe?" Nina asked, her voice sounding worried.

Silence met Nina's questions and I knew the answer George wouldn't say out loud. I sighed and crossed to the window. I glanced back at the closed door and pulled it open. I didn't need to listen in on my friends. I didn't need to listen to them worry about me. I needed to figure out how to get into Hell and get back out again, alive. With Annie.

I quickly slipped out the window and back into the night, soundlessly losing myself into the night. The predator's interest piqued at being out on the prowl, in the darkness again, but I shoved him back. I wasn't going to let him be in control again tonight.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and let my mind wander to what I knew about the other side.

Fact: Only the dead can cross over without going insane.

Why?

I think it has something to do with the aspect of the soul. When the body dies, the soul gets released. Ghosts are created when the soul has some "unfinished business" that is so great, it cannot find peace. There's good ghosts, like Annie, and bad ghosts that become known as poltergeists and are basis for things like the Exorcist. If a living person crosses over, their body and soul is in a place they aren't meant for. The body cannot survive what the soul can; how many old people are there that are spunky as the day they were born, but they body is worn out? I think this…premature crossover wears on the soul without harming the body, thus creating something similar to insanity. It's only a theory, a bit sketchy at that, but it seems like it'd make sense.

Maybe not.

Moving on.

Fact: The Gatekeepers decide where the soul goes.

From my own brief experience with crossing over, when going through the door, you're met with reception. They eventually decide where you go as you move from reception from reception. Problem is, I never got past the first reception. Vampires don't get to find out where they would have gone. They just linger there until it's time to waken.

Fact-ish: There's different parts of hell (from both Annie's declaration and rumors/history/religious teachings). This seems to be a bit of a universal concept.

Rumor: Dante wasn't wrong when he discussed the nine circles of hell; Limbo/Purgatory, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Wrath/sullenness, Heresy, Violence, Fraud, and Treachery.

Are those the true organization of Hell itself? Who knows. There was a tale I'd heard when I was first changed that Dante was inspired by someone who had actually travelled through Hell. When he came back, his mind was so ravaged by his journey, he was barely able to speak. His mad ramblings were crafted together and we have The Inferno.

Fact: Annie is beginning to lose her mind.

Fact: Annie is being sent to Purgatory. Nothingness.

Fact: Technology can be manipulated by the Gatekeepers and souls (apparently, I mean, Annie's done it…) on The Other-Side.

Why? For what purpose? I don't see the Devil or whatever is in charge of Hell wanting to call and order a pizza or watch the newest episodes of Doctor Who and X-Factor.

So…why?

Something tells me that communication and spying aren't the sole reasons for that ability. Why would they need to be in contact with those on this side? Does that mean there are Gatekeepers in our world as well as in theirs? To control? For fear? Why?

Lights flickering in the corner of my vision caught my attention and I stopped, and turned to look at the display of TVs across the street. I had a moment of surprise that I had walked this far away from our small house. But another part of me, the predator too, felt weary. Alert. Like something wasn't right. I studied the TVs, looking for any anomalies in their broadcasts but nothing jumped out at me…at first.

"Mitchell,"

My blood went cold. I couldn't help the instincts of the predator as they took over. I knew my eyes would be all black if anyone were to look closely enough into them. I could feel the fangs extended in my mouth and couldn't hold back the hiss that escaped my throat as the predator prepared to fight.

"There you are, Mitchell the beast," The thing inside the TVs taunted. "The monster. Our killer."

"What do you want?" I asked, not letting the predator slip away. I wanted the fearlessness of the predator. John Mitchell was afraid. The Vampire wouldn't show weakness. I used both to keep myself calm. To talk to the beings before me.

"_We_ don't want anything," The man laughed, a sick twisted sound that didn't sound human. Something dark lurked behind that news anchor's body. "We only have a message. For you." The thing laughed again and I winced, the pitch hurting my ears. "About Annie." It said, it's voice serious.

My blood ran colder.

"What are doing to her?" I demanded.

"Nothing she hasn't earned, Vampire." The thing stated, smiling at me. "But, we decided…well, it's been so long since we've had a visitor."

"What are you implying?"

"You, John Mitchell, are campaigning to save your Ghost." The thing stated, smirking at me. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to keep silent, to not fall into its verbal trap. If it had a message for me, it could come out and say it. I didn't want to play games. Not with Death. "We decided on…a wager."

"A bet?"

"If you will."

"What kind of bet?"

"We'll let you have the Ghost. Your…Annie Sawyer," The thing said and I stared skeptically at the being before me. There's no way Death was just going to let Annie go, as nice as that would be. No. There would be a cost. A price. There always was one for the things you care most about. "If you can find her."

"That's it?"

"Mmmm. You cross over, we'll let you search. We'll let you hunt. Take as much time as you need. You find your Ghost, you can both leave." It paused. "Provided, you can find your way back out again, of course."

"Oh. Of course." I found myself agreeing. "Are you insane?" I hissed at the TV and a woman walking passed me gave me a wide birth and a funny look as she moved past. The image inside the TV laughed all the while. I watched the woman, gave her a friendly smile and a wave.

"Reporters," I said, shaking my head incredulously. She gave me a nervous smile and continued on her way, as fast as she could. I watched her go a moment before turning my attention back to the thing before me, now looking smug as it stared back at me.

"You're going to just…let me cross over, poke around in your…operations, and then leave again?" I shook my head. "No, I don't buy it."

"What other choice do you have, Mitchell?" The thing asked. "You say no to this offer, than you'll be hard pressed to find a door and welcome reception. Do you know what we do to those who cross over who don't belong? Hm?" There was a pause as the thing let me think about this for a moment. "Do you want to find out?" It smirked, knowing it had won. "This offer is good only now. Say yes, We'll tell you when and where to cross over. Say no….well…We'd say good luck, but we both know that won't do you any good."

I closed my eyes and released the breath I was holding slowly. It was right. I didn't have a choice. If I wanted to save Annie, I wouldn't have another opportunity like this. The predator told me it was a trap. I knew it was a trap. Every instinct within me screamed to say no. To find another way. But what other way was there? Wander around hoping for someone to die? Then what? I cross over, yeah…if that soul presents a door. And then what? As the thing stated, the Gatekeepers wouldn't just let me waltz around. No. Was it even possible to die on the otherside? I shivered at that thought. I had to do this. I didn't have any other choice. No other option. I wasn't going to just leave Annie there. I couldn't. I needed her too much.

"Tell me where."

The thing just smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I know I said this last chapter, but I seriously cannot say this enough. I'm so sorry it's been awhile since I updated. Blame work, blame school, blame life…I got a million excuses and none of them will probably please any of you who are waiting for a good Being Human, non US fic, to be updated. I have not, and have no plans on, giving up on this fic. I'd promise to update faster, but I honestly can't agree to that. I'm trying to do the series justice by keeping the characters in character and I often struggle with George especially, though the next few chapters will be George free so I might be alright on that end. I can't apologize enough to you guys and I promise to try harder to get this going. You keep reviewing, I'll keep writing. Deal? Also note, I'm not British/English or from Europe so I try and Google some terms that I know are different, such as "freeway/highway/expressway" in the US to … I guess it's the "motorway" in the UK? Anyway, if I make a mistake, it's all my fault and I try to catch the things I know are different terminology wise. Plus, I've never been across the pond, so I hope my "Death Location" has a real destination in the areas we're talking about in Being Human :-p Anyway, here it is, chapter 3! Thank you to those who are sticking with me and not giving up!

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**Chapter 3**

"Are. You. In-_sane_?"

George yelled, his voice starting out calm and finally raising several octaves on the last syllable of 'insane'; his voice even squeaked a bit as he yelled and I had to wince at the noise.

"Not only are even considering this, oh no, you're actually going to do it!"

I sighed as George stared at me, his eyes wide behind his wire-framed glasses, his gaze pleading with me to see reason. I had to stamp my natural tendency to say something rude and sarcastic in response. I had expected this reaction from him and it wouldn't do well to lose control either. George had to know I didn't agree to this lightly. He had to understand I knew what I was doing. George had to know I was taking this seriously.

I took a deep breath, to calm myself before answering, and regretted the action.

I could smell the fear dripping off him and I had to fight the thing inside me as I felt my mouth begin to water in response. Right now, his heart was racing, pumping blood triple the rate it usually does. I could almost hear the blood rushing through his veins. The smell of hormones released during, what is now known as the fight-or-flight response – were released. The predator liked this. It knew how sweet that blood would taste, even if it was tainted by the filthy mutt that showed itself two nights a month. George's eyes locked on mine and it took me everything I had not to pounce. I could feel it, just beneath the surface. The need, the want for blood.

I closed my eyes and turned my gaze away from my friend. I couldn't look at him without thinking of the blood, of how good it would feel to sink my teeth into his jugular and drink my fill.

"I know what I'm doing, George." I told him, clenching my fists, cursing myself for my weakness so many months before in Bristol when I had slaughtered 20 people with Daisy, all with a song in my heart.

"Yeah, Mitchell, it really looks that way," George scoffed. "Don't you see what this is?"

"I'm not stupid, George."

"Sure sounds like it."

I counted slowly to ten and risked opening my eyes. I took a deep breath and the smell had went away…only slightly. It was bearable now. I shoved the dark thoughts out of my head and focused once more on George. My friend.

"How else am I going to do this, George?" I asked him, trying to get him to see reason. "It was right last night when it practically told me this was a fool's errand. Even if I managed to get to the other side…" I shook my head. "There would be no guarantee to come back. At least, this way, I have a way in and a way out."

"But why, Mitchell? What does it want?"

"I don't know."

"Exactly!" George yelled, throwing his hands up and looking exasperated. "We don't know. You mean to say that Death just….just…grew a heart and decided willy-nilly just to _let_ you cross over and _let_ you rescue Annie? And what for? Because it's _lonely_? Because it suddenly grew a conscious and a sense of mercy? After _months_ of tormenting Annie? You don't see that this is a little insane?"

I shook my head and closed my eyes. I knew what George was saying. I knew there had to be a catch. This was too good to be true.

"What choice do I have, George?"

My voice sounded tired, drained. I was surprised how much defeat came through and it was then that I finally realized just how hopeless I knew this really was. I was determined. I wasn't going to give up. But I honestly wasn't sure if I would ever succeed.

George opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again. Silence stretched between us. I could see him struggling with himself. Struggling with wanting to keep us safe; with wanting to get Annie back; with not wanting to lose his first friend since the end of his normal life.

"You get her back," George finally said, looking at me like someone just killed his puppy.

"I will."

George gave me a sad smile and moved closer.

"You make sure you come back, too."

I couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Of course."

George let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob and I shook my head before opening my arms.

"Come here," I said and we hugged for a moment.

When we pulled apart, George sighed.

"When is it?"

"I have to leave in 10 minutes."

"And you tell me this _now_?"

"I didn't really have a lot of notice myself, yeah."

"Do you know what's going to happen?" George asked and I shook my head.

"It only gave a time and a place. I was told not to be a second late or I'd miss my only shot. That's it."

"You best be heading out then," George said taking a shaky breath.

"Are you going to be ok?"

"Just make sure you both come back." George stated, not answering my question, but he gave me a small sad smile. "Nina and I will be here."

"Where is Nina, by the way?" I asked, glad I didn't have to get a lecture from her too, but surprised George hadn't wanted her around for a 'house meeting'.

"Work. She got an emergency call early this morning. Must have been something big that she's not back yet."

"Ah."

Silence fell between us. I knew I should leave but I wasn't sure I knew how. I knew I should tell George something, about how grateful I am for our friendship. At how he doesn't know just how many times he's saved me from myself, from my darkness. I felt like I should let him know, just in case, but at the same time…

"You should go." George said. "You don't want to miss your chance."

"George—"

"No. Don't say it, because if you say it, than that means you're not coming back and you are coming back. You and Annie both. So…don't." George said sternly. I nodded in response.

"George…if something….if something does go wrong…"

"Mitchell, don't."

"No, George. If something goes wrong…I'll find a way to tell you. They can send messages through electronics. I'll figure it out."

"You won't need to." George stated, sounding like a petulant child, but I couldn't help but smile at his assertions.

I just hoped he was right.

"Good bye, George."

"_See you later_, Mitchell."

With that, I turned my back on my best friend and the life we had come to build, and was on my way into hell. Literally.

* * *

Death's directions lead me to the side of the motorway. I had taken a taxi out and now sat by the side of the road, looking around. There was nothing here but a stretch of motorway for miles and an open field separating the East and West drivers. So that's what it is then. Car accident on the motorway. How original.

I sighed and glanced at my watch. I had less than a minute according to the time given to me last night. I glanced up at the traffic once again, had time to wonder which one it would be when the world seemed to explode. Everything happened so fast, it was hard to tell what started it and what ended it, but as soon as it had started, it was over.

A lorry lost control and slammed into a small compact car. Tires screeched as those behind the scene tried to stop and avoid the collision. The horrible sounds of metal crashing together rang in my ears. Some drivers were lucky, some weren't so. There was a car flipped over in the median, a couple others littered the once undisturbed grass from either trying to avoid or that's where they ended up. Several more were just hunks of metal twisted together in formations that defied physics. Broken metal and glass littered the scene. I knew it was coming, but it was horrific.

I sat in my seat, frozen as my mind tried to wrap its head around the damage. The wind shifted direction and I could smell it.

Blood.

Lots.

And lots.

Of Blood.

Gallons of it.

I wanted to throw up.

I wanted to drink it.

I wanted to lick it off the pavement and roll in it.

The beast wanted to be un-caged and I was too in shock to control the impulses that ran through me. I found myself moving towards the scene, enchanted with the stench of injury and death. My mouth was watering. I knew my eyes would be black as the night if I could see them in a mirror.

I saw movement of people getting out of their cars. I heard people shouting for help. Some on cell phones.

I was standing next to the wreckage, the first car. The victim's blood was all over everything. I could almost taste it. The smell was intoxicating. The fear around me…oh how the beast loved it.

"Ex-excuse me…"

I spun around and hissed at the person who interrupted my hunt. She stood there, looking all the part of the lost little girl. Was maybe 28. Good, a young one. The beast thought. It was about to lunge when her words stopped me.

"Am I…am I dead?"

It all came back to me, why I was here. It was like a bucket of ice cold water had been splashed on me as I stood, looking at the ghost of the woman's blood I was about to lick off the car seats.

"I'm sorry." I said, not really sure what else to say to the ghost before me. She looked to be in shock. I think anyone would be after seeing the devastation around her.

"Oh." She said, looking even more lost.

I looked around, trying to spot it. Where was the Door? I felt panic beginning to rise. There should have been a Door. Did I miss it? Did I lose myself too long? Why wasn't there a Door?

"There should be a Door," I whispered, trying to wrap my head around the fact that there wasn't one. That I was too late. I had let the monster take control and I had lost my chance.

"You mean, like that?" The Ghost asked, pointing behind us.

I turned around, so fast the world tipped a bit, but she was right. There was a Door. I couldn't help but smile and let out a laugh of relief. I turned back to the woman and held out my hand.

"Come on, we go through the door."

"I…I don't know…"

"Do you really want to hang around here?" I asked her.

She glanced back at the car, at the accident around us. I could hear sirens coming and I knew I had to leave fast.

"I guess you're right." She stated, taking my hand. "Are you a ghost too?"

"No. I'm…I'm trying to find a friend."

"Oh," She looked confused but I didn't offer her any more than that. Pulling the Ghost along, we raced to The Door. I put my hand on the knob and turned.

It didn't move.

The Door was locked.

"Shit."

"What?"

"It's locked." I told the Ghost, feeling devastated once again as I realized we really were too late.

"No it's not." The Ghost said and I turned to look at her and sure enough, her hand was on the door and it was partially open. I smiled. Of course. It was her Door. Not mine.

"Let's go." I told her, and she looked reluctant and a bit unsure, but nodded her agreement.

We stepped through the threshold and The Door slammed shut behind us.

This was it.

This was Hell.


End file.
